


Silver and Gold

by LukasV



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: GN Reader, Oral, Other, Punishment, Smut, Spanking, gender neutral reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-23
Updated: 2020-04-23
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:20:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,108
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23809045
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LukasV/pseuds/LukasV
Summary: As the newest member of the Van Der Linde Gang, a botched robbery attempt leaves you in the Valentine sheriff's office awaiting a hanging.After being freed you are able to escape back to camp, but the gangs leaders are less than pleased with your behaviour and decide to teach you a lesson.
Relationships: Hosea Matthews/Dutch van der Linde/Reader
Kudos: 29





	Silver and Gold

**Author's Note:**

> Anon on tumblr requested a piece of writing featuring Dutch/Hosea/GN reader ~
> 
> this is only a short one, but enjoy!

The two men’s eyes were fixed on you from their position on the other side of camp, observing as you hitched your horse sheepishly.

You had been caught.

Caught red handed handed in fact, slipping through the back door of the gunsmiths and loading rifle after rifle onto your horse. It had seemed like a good idea at the time to build yourself a good reputation, selling them for cash or upgrading the camps guard duty stock. But you had gotten cocky and your day had ended with you in a cell.

If it were not for Arthur passing through Valentine and spotting your horse outside the sheriffs office you would have almost certainly been woken in the morning with a noose around your neck.

You hadn’t been in the Van Der Linde gang long… and this wasn’t your first mistake like this.

* * *

"They're a problem Dutch, we both know it” Hosea commented, plucking the lit cigarette from between his lips “they keep screwing up like this mark my words we’re gonna have the law on us before the months end"

“What do you propose?” the older man asks, eyes flicking to his partners.

Dutch exhaled a thick cloud of cigar smoke, shifting on his feet as he watched you intently, eyebrows dipped in frustration.

“I think… its about time we give our new member a little talking to”

He turns and disappears into the large tent.

Hosea's lips quirked, knowing exactly what the younger man was hinting at.

"Y/N" He calls sternly, and you stiffen with shame.

The silver haired man ushers you over with a finger “come here please, me and Dutch would like to have a word”

You hung your head and slowly made your way towards the tent. You had been expecting something like this for a while and braced yourself for the worst.

“Uhh ohh, someone’s gonna get a tellin’ off!” John slurred from the campfire, bottle in hand and an irritating grin plastered over his stitched face.

You shot him your best ‘shut up’ glare you could muster before pushing your way through the canvas.

It was dimly lit, a single lantern illuminating the small space. Dutch and Hosea stood side by side, hands on their hips and faces like stone. You found yourself feeling incredibly small in their glare, and as was your nature, your fear quickly transformed into irritation.

“What?” you huffed.

Dutch sucked in a sharp breath through his nose at that, jaw visibly clenching in anger at your response, the vein on his forehead looking fit to burst. He advanced on you, raising a hand to his mouth to retrieve the cigar and start shouting but Hosea stilled him, placing an arm on his shoulder and taking over.

“If you want to stick around here with us kid you better damn well start learning to have a bit of respect”,

You opened your mouth to argue but he cut you off instantly.

“I’m not finished!”,

you shut up at that. As old and sweet as he looked, Hosea could be a real terror when he was angry and it was twice as frightening when it was yourself in the firing line. In a way, he scared you more than Dutch did. Dutch was loud, proud and arrogant about his intentions, Hosea on the other hand played his cards close to his chest.

No outlaw reached his age without having at least _some_ dark secrets.

“We’ve worked our goddamn fingers to the _bone_ to get this gang back on it’s feet again, we caught you stealing from us and I gave you an opportunity to run with us rather than let Dutch shoot you on the spot…” he pinches the bridge of his nose “the way you’ve been acting I’m starting to think that was a mistake”.

_Now that, that made you nervous._

“I’m sorry sir...”

“Sorry doesn't mean _shit_ when your actions lead us all up onto the scaffold! It ain’t Arthur’s responsibility to keep saving your ass, have some _goddamn_ common sense for _christ sake!_ ”

You could practically sense the small audience that had no doubt gathered outside to eavesdrop.

“I’m sorry Hosea, Dutch… it won’t happen again I promise” you repeat, straightening up to show some decorum “am I free to go now?”.

The two leaders looked to one another, and although you didn't hear a word it seemed as if an entire conversation passed between them in their minds. The sly smiles that crept onto their faces sent a shiver up your spine.

“I’m not sure Dutch, do _you_ think we’re done here?”.

Dutch dropped his spent cigar to the floor, crushing it out under his boot, the fire had receded from his features, obviously satisfied for now with Hosea’s verbal lashing.

“Oohhh I wouldn’t say that old girl, I don’t think Y/N here is even _close_ to learning their lesson”.

He stepped forward slowly and deliberately, spurs clinking on the makeshift wooden flooring, moving around you and coming to a stop at your back. You try to swallow the lump in your throat but to no avail.

You’re aware now how much _bigger_ he is than yourself, both of them in fact.

He’s close now, so close that you can feel yourself suffocating on the pungent aroma of cigar smoke on his breath, his hands reach for your hips, mustache grazing your ear and you feel like liquid in his grip.

“In that case” Hosea lowers himself onto Dutch’s cot, knees wide, patting his lap “would you kindly bring our troublemaker over here?”.

“With pleasure” Dutch growls, breath hot on the nape of your neck.

He marches your forward the short distance and forces you down over the older man’s lap.

Hosea’s hands trail up your back, one pushing down firmly between your shoulder blades whilst the other works open the belt of your pants, nimble fingers undoing it with ease and tugging them down to expose your bare rear.

You gasped at the whip of cold air against soft skin and your eyes widen in realization.

_Surely they weren't serious?? You weren't a goddamn child._

“Now come on, this ain’t necessary! I said I was sorry!” you drawl, boots scraping on the wood pathetically beneath you.

Hosea doesn’t answer, doesn’t acknowledge your protests at all. A warm slim hand kneading the flesh of your rear.

All the while Dutch towers above you, and although you couldn't see his face you could just _picture_ that smug menacing smirk.

“Now, on how many occasions has our new arrival here made themselves a nuisance these past few weeks dear friend, at least seven or eight times surely?” Hosea asks, bringing your arms up behind your back when he feels you pushing against his boot to get up.

“Ohhh _far_ more than that” you feel a hand run along your ass, larger and rougher than Hosea’s “I’d say no less than _ten_ times in fact”.

_Bastard._

“Lets make it 10 then”.

You finally gave up your struggling, letting your head hang pathetically towards the floor. Cheeks flushed with humiliation.

There was no way you were smart talking out of this, not with the both of them.

“Now, I want you to count for us, quietly mind you, don’t wanna wake everyone”.

_Slim chance of that, John had probably already woken everyone up to listen-in anyway, the idiot._

The warmth of the hand is gone only to return a second later with a firm hard slap against your cheek. You could tell by sting of metal it had to have been Dutch’s hand, of course he had chosen to use the ringed one.

You heard a shrill yelp and was quickly ashamed to realize it was your own.

“ONE!” you cry out.

Before you can rake in another breath the hand returns with another firm smack, the sound echoing around the small space.

“T- TWO!” you stutter, body instinctively arching away from the impact into Hosea’s lap.

The long fingers hooked around your arms give a rub of encouragement.

Two hard smacks in succession now, sending jolts up your spine, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as you yelp out, the numbers barely formed.

“They keep up like this Dutch they’re gonna wake the whole state, I don’t want guard duty distracted”.

The hand pauses and you hear a deep hum of consideration from somewhere above you.

“You take over old friend, think I got something that’ll shut em up nicely”.

You didn't feel any more relaxed at the idea of Hosea’s palm.

You hear the clink of a belt being undone and Dutch’s boots appear at the floor beneath you. He kneels and wooden floor creaks beneath his weight.

You lift your head to find yourself face to face with his length, hot and painfully hard. You grit your teeth into a snarl, not sure if its from the blazing sting of your rear or the deep shame at the heat pooling in your groin.

His cock probes your lips and when Hosea brings his palm down on you wickedly hard you shout, allowing him to slip himself inside.

_God he’s big._

_As big as you had fantasized._

You can’t contain the moan that slips from your lips as your mouth the number ‘five’ around Dutch’s cock. Eyes rimmed with wetness at the sting of skin on skin.

“I’ll keep count kid… you just focus that naughty little mouth on _me”._

Three more smacks followed by slim fingers digging into the red firey flesh of your abused rear.

“hmm, I make that eight, nearly there kid”.

"God, at this rate we might just ban you from jobs altogether and keep you here for ourselves." Hosea chimes in, clearly enjoying the show.

_Fuck, the thought of that sends hot blood to your groin._

Even though he’s buried in your throat, Dutch is as composed as ever, and it _irritates_ you. Your mouth comes alive, tongue swirling around the head of his cock, sucking rhythmically on its length, determined to break that smug shell, even if only a little.

There is a grunt of surprise in his throat, and his breathing hitches, hands falling to his sides lost.

You smirk at that, but its quickly broken by Hosea’s voice.

“ _Concentrate_ Dutch, this is a _punishment_ remember”.

That seems to snap him back to reality again, eyes flaring as he realizes what you were trying to do.

“Sneaky little bastard” he tuts scornfully.

Those large hands find your hair, bunching it in his fists as he forces himself to the back of your throat again and again, fucking your mouth roughly.

The remaining spanks come steady but hard, in a rhythm. Dutch barking out the count on each one.

_It makes sense now, as the two leaders unravel you, working around your body._

_This wasn’t your average motley crew of illiterate gun-toting outlaws._

_These men were smart, shifty and capable. The two of them together were dangerous and could probably have even the tightest of lips spilling their secrets, it was no wonder the gang had lasted so long._

With a growl and no warning, Dutch empties himself down your throat leaving a bitter taste on your tongue. You swallow it gratefully before collapsing back into Hosea’s lap.

Your skin feels like its on fire, a pulsing sting that radiates through your entire body, you don’t dare to think what your ass must look like now.

“So, have you learnt your lesson Y/N?”.

And its Hosea speaking again, Dutch back on his feet, tucking himself away unashamedly and raking a hand through his dishevelled hair.

“Yes sirs” you choke out “I won’t do no more stupid shit, I promise”.

“My-my Dutch, seems you may well have fucked some manners into that mouth after all”.

The saliva coating your chin was turning cold now and you wiped it away with the back of your hand as the two men helped you to your feet and fixed up your pants.

“Run along now, we’ve got work to do” Dutch teased with a gentle push towards the open canvas “and remember, _no more trouble_ ”.

You left the large tent, ducking away from the curious eyes of camp to the privacy of your bedroll.

Arousal pulsed through your body in agonizing waves of warm need. You slipped a hand into your pants, letting your eyes flutter closed as you replayed the scene again and again in your mind.

_You would keep your word for the safety of the gang, no doubt about that._

_But to say you weren't already planning your next little harmless ‘mistake’ would be a filthy lie._


End file.
